Chapter FourteenThe following day, Noreen glanced at the watch pinned to her sweater. Only three minutes later than the last time she looked. She picked up a towel and dried her hands, massaging her swollen knuckles with the threadbare, brown cloth.
Tossing the towel on the floor next to the bucket of willow branches, she sat back and studied the basket on the table in front of her. The upright stakes were a warm shade of umber. The weavers were from a blackberry bush she found on the way home from the market. The contrasting colors of the two materials presented a pleasing combination. Hopefully, one of the housewives who frequented her table would agree.
She rotated her neck to ease the stiffness from her shoulders. Time to prepare the tea.
Anne Lenner’s clear soprano voice sang from
